Petal 3

XXXVI. Truffles

“What’s Essie got?” Yarrow called to his brother in excitement.

Valerian ran to the hazel-thicket to inspect, and saw that the pig had dug up something near a tree and was eating it now with obvious relish. The boy sneaked up and grabbed part of it from her.

Now the girls were coming. Marjoram rode her big sister piggy-back, since she was still too little to run very fast.

“Looks like a lump of dirt,” Columbine said in some disappointment as she came chugging breathlessly up.

“It’s not,” Valerian said. “I think it’s a mushroom…of sorts. Look at it.”

“Don’t eat it,” Columbine said in some alarm, as Valerian looked about to taste it. “It may be poisonous. We must ask mum or dad.”

“Smell it,” Valerian said. “It doesn’t smell poisonous. It smells like…”

“It smells good,” Yarrow said sniffing. “Like an apple…or a pink rose.”

Columbine laughed, then she took a whiff.

“It smells lovely,” she said. “Like springtime. Or a kiss.”

“A kiss!” Valerian hooted. Marjoram was reaching for it.

“What do you think it smells like, luvvie?” Columbine asked her.

“Snowflakes,” the little one said, and all laughed, including Marjoram.

“Essie ate some and she didn’t die,” Valerian pointed out. “Let’s taste it.”

“Nay, we must ask mum first,” Columbine insisted. But it was too late. Valerian had already taken a nibble.

“It’s delicious!” he pronounced, as the others stood about with open mouths, waiting for him to fall down dead. And then he fell over on his back, twitching, his eyeballs rolling up, clutching at his stomach. The others screamed, including Marjoram, although she was too little yet to understand. She was shrieking now at the top of her voice.

“Not in my ear,” Columbine told her. Then she noticed Valerian was still clutching his treasure in one hand, and she reached down to take it.  Immediately his fingers clenched over it, and she kicked her brother in the side.

“Just as I thought,” she said. “He’s faking. Twit.”

Valerian laughed, and rolled away as she made to kick him again.

“I want to taste,” Yarrow said jumping up and down. “I saw it first.”

“No you didn’t, Essie did,” Valerian said as he got to his feet. “And I took it from her. If you tried that, you’d probably have a finger missing.”

“Here, Essie Essie Essie,” Marjoram called, but the pig was nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s show it to Mum,” Columbine insisted, as Yarrow looked at his fingers to make sure they were still attached. “She’ll know what it is. She knows these things.”

“If we must,” Valerian said with an expression of exaggerated resignation, lifting his eyes heavenward. In truth, he was curious to find out what it was also. And if it were anything truly wonderful, which it likely was, she would be most proud of him.  A feeling of sudden wild joy and excitement seized him and he broke into a run, hollering back at his siblings, “Last one in is a drunken hop-toad in a snake’s mouth!”

And Petal smiled as her children came running toward the smial clutching the fruit of the hazel-thicket she and her husband had planted shortly after their wedding. So they were finally bearing. And already she was planning out the delightful dish she would make with the new delicacy tonight, and even thinking of giving a party. It had been far too long since the last one.

And this one would be far more interesting.

~*~*~

XXXVII. Sam’s Gift

“What have you there, Sam?” Bilbo asked, as young Samwise shyly entered the front gate of Bag End, bearing a peck basket full of some mysterious dark-colored objects.

“Hullo, Mister Bilbo,” Sam said. “I…well, I found these. On top of Bag End. Not sure what they’re called…but I dug ’em up out of the ground. See, I was trimmin’ the grass around the big tree like my old Gaffer told me, and I hit my toe on a big root. That’s when I noticed there was somethin’ clingin’ to it, like. So I picked it up and it sorta came open…and it smelled so nice, I thought it might be good to eat. And so I took a taste of it, and it was delicious. Better than mushrooms even. I think it’s some kind of mushroom, but I never seen the like of it before.”

“Sam, you shouldn’t be eating those, lad,” Bilbo said. “They might be poisonous.”

“Well, I ate one, and I didn’t die, sir,” the boy chuckled a little. “See, I had this feelin’…well, it was like somebody was a tellin’ me there was more, and to go get a basket and dig for ’em. So I went home and begged one of my mum, and then started diggin’ with this little trowel. And there was lots of ’em, hangin’ on to the roots and all. I’d like for you and Mister Frodo to have ’em, sir. Taste one. They’re like nothin’ you ever tasted before.”

“They were clinging to the roots, you say?” Bilbo said, picking one up and sniffing at it.

Sam nodded. “You know what they are, sir?”

“I’ve seen something like them in Rivendell,” Bilbo said. “They looked a bit different from these—much lighter in color. But they grew on the roots of trees, and had to be dug up, like potatoes. And they smelled and tasted wonderful. They’re called truffles, in the common tongue. We sometimes had them in our dinner. They are rare and hard to find, and so bring a high price in the marketplace. So we didn’t have them so often. And yet…you found all these, on the roots of the tree atop Bag End. That’s a pure wonder, that is…”

“Aye, it is,” Sam agreed. “Uh…where’s Mister Frodo?”

“Off by himself once more,” Bilbo sighed. “He was in one of his moods, and went off without telling me where he was going. Yesterday was the anniversary of his parents’ deaths, and he’s been out of sorts for the past three days. What can I say, he’s twenty-eight years old, and he’ll do what he will.”

“Aye, I noticed that. That’s why I wanted to give these to him. I thought they might cheer him a mite, don’t you think, Mister Bilbo?”

“They might, at that. Here, let me try one.”

And Bilbo nibbled at one of the truffles, and his eyebrows went up.

“I say, these are better than the light-colored ones,” he declared. “And to think they grow atop Bag End! I wonder how long they’ve been there?”

“You don’t think…She had aught to do with it, do you sir?” Sam said.

“She?” Bilbo looked blank for a moment. “Oh…you mean…”

“Aye. Her.” Sam glanced toward the fairy-ring. “Mayhap she caused ’em to grow there? ‘Cos I did feel a, a pull like someone was tellin’ me to look there. It was most powerful, it was.”

Bilbo put a hand to his chin.

“I think you may be on to something, my lad,” he said. “Well. I dare say they could do him no harm, at that. I much doubt she’d lead him into something that would be harmful to him. So I tell you what, dear lad. Let’s divide these up, you take some for yourself, and–”

“I want you and Mister Frodo to have ’em, sir,” Sam exclaimed. “They were on your property, after all.”

“But you found them, and you did all the work of digging them up.”

“I’ll just take one for each of us,” Sam said. “And you and Mister Frodo take the rest. I don’t think my old Gaffer would like for me takin’ so many anyhow. I–”

And he paused as he saw Mister Bilbo looking toward the gate, turned around and there was Mister Frodo.

“Hullo, Sam,” he said, although he did not look very glad to see the boy. “What have you there?”

“They’re…what’re they called again, Mister Bilbo?”

“Truffles,” Bilbo replied. “Sam found them, Frodo-lad, and wanted us to have them. Take a whiff of these, my lad. They smell delightful, what?”

Frodo sniffed. “They’re nice,” he admitted. The gloomy aspect of his face seemed to lighten a little as he breathed in the fragrance once more.

“Taste one, Mister Frodo,” Sam said eagerly. “You won’t believe the taste of ’em.”

Bilbo held out the truffle he had bitten into. “Have a nibble,” he said with twinkling eyes.

“You’re not having me on, are you?” Frodo said with a little frown at the unsightly brown lump.

Bilbo grabbed it from him and took a big bite. “Mmmm,” he murmured rolling his eyes up. “This is what the Powers must have for breakfast.”

Frodo smiled a bit sheepishly, and took the truffle and bit into it. The look on his face was something to see, almost comical in its amazement.

“They’re all for you—and Mister Bilbo,” Sam said, thrilled that he had managed to snap Mister Frodo out of his funk.

“Nay, you must take some too, Sam,” Frodo said, and for several minutes they argued the point until finally Sam agreed to take half for himself and his family.

After the boy had gone home, Bilbo and Frodo took the basket and went inside and down to the cold room to put it away. As they came back up, Frodo looked back with a puzzled frown between his eyebrows.

“To think they were there all this time,” he said, “and we didn’t know it. Do you suppose…”

“What, dear lad?” Bilbo said, although he was reasonably certain of what his nephew was going to say.

“That this was Her doing. You know who I mean.”

“’Tis all right to say her name, lad.”

“It was, wasn’t it.  Her doing.”

“And if it were?”

“You may have my share, Bilbo,” Frodo said sulkily. “I want no gifts from Her.”

“Frodo…”

“She broke her promise,” Frodo said blinking hard. “And I’ll accept no bribes from her, only to have her let me down again.”

Bilbo sighed. “’Twas not a gift from her, lad. ‘Tis from Sam.”

“But if she put them there…or caused them to grow…”

“Sam it was that found them. And gave them to you. Because he was concerned, and wished to cheer you.”

“But…”

“But nothing. Now let’s leave off this nonsense and enjoy what’s given while we can, what say?”

“Very well, uncle. You know best, I suppose.”

“Damned right I do. Now how about a game of chess.”

Frodo smiled then. It was as if someone had suddenly pulled up the shade in a dim room.

“You know, I bet those would be good in an omelet,” he said as they went to retrieve the chessboard from the closet. “We could try it out tomorrow morning.”

“Why wait till tomorrow?” Bilbo beamed.